A fireman's helmet at the other end of the alley, in the passage leading to Driver's Court, told its own tale; and if that was not enough, the smell of fire and the bundles of rags and broken furniture which blocked up the narrow pathway, were sufficient evidence.
The exiles from Driver's stared hard at the young lady as she made her way through the crowd; but the people of Storr Alley treated her as a friend, and she had no lack of information as to the calamity of the preceding night.
Raby paid several visits on her way up.

Then, with some trepidation, she knocked at the door of the garret.

There was no reply from within till she turned the handle, and said-- "May I come in ?" Then a voice replied,-- "Yes, if you like," and she entered.
It was a strange scene which met her eyes as she did so.

A lad was stretched on the bed, awake, but, motionless, regarding with some anxiety a baby who slumbered, nestling close to his side.

On the floor, curled up, with his face to the wall, lay a man sleeping heavily; while Tim, divided in his interest between the stranger on the bed and the visitor at the door, stood like a little watchdog suddenly put on his guard.
"May I come in ?" said Raby again timidly.
"Here she is!" cried Tim, running to her; "John's asleep, and he,"-- pointing to the figure on the bed--"can't run about." "Correct, Timothy," said the youth referred to; "I can't--hullo!" This last exclamation was caused by his catching sight of Raby at the door.